


komorebi

by misleko



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Side Mark/Donghyuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misleko/pseuds/misleko
Summary: “You know what’s more important than data analysis meetings and investor lunches and conference calls? Getting to eat breakfast with you in the mornings. I swear to the ends of the earth, the sight of you sipping on orange juice is infinitely more important than whichever old man is trying to kiss up to me to get into my father’s good graces.”(Renjun learns a thing or two about perspective, and Jeno comes home.)
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 16
Kudos: 238
Collections: nct title fest 2020





	komorebi

**Author's Note:**

> prompt #NTF267
> 
> komorebi (木漏れ日): the interplay between light and leaves when sunlight filters through trees; melancholic longing or nostalgia for a person, place or thing that is far away from you.
> 
> thank you to mod ticket for hosting title fest + thank you to my darling H for beta'ing this!

Several things come to mind when Renjun thinks about Jeno.

His little habit of running away when he’s embarrassed. The way he used to greet Renjun in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a quip about that day’s weather on mornings that he stayed over. The calluses on his warm hands that were always so eager to hold Renjun’s own. Soft sweaters mixing with black sportswear in his closet, an extensive sneaker collection lining the ground.

Cobble the pieces together and Renjun could almost conjure up a specter of a person to fill the vacant space by his side.

Of course, he’s actively trying not to think about Jeno these days. It’s not easy.

Renjun drags his feet up each step, fingers ghosting up the cold, metal railing. The single lightbulb on the landing flickers to an irregular beat as he crosses to the next set of stairs. The window in the corner displays a vignette of the city, neon lights from the late-night dessert shop across the street shining a spotlight of purple across the stone floor.

The apartment building is like a beacon, the lights staying on in the stairwell all night for those who’ve strayed too far to find a path back. In Renjun’s mind, though, he knows. Jeno knows exactly how to get back. He just won’t come. It doesn’t even feel right to miss him because Renjun knows exactly where he is and how to contact him. He can hardly even justify pining after him when he was partially at fault for him leaving.

Sometimes, he catches himself staring at their kakao chat despite his best efforts. At the red dots next to Jeno’s voice messages, signaling that they’re still unopened. Last week, his impulse control finally dropped enough for him to send a message back.

“I don’t want to hear your voice, Jen. It’ll just make me miss you more so please stop.”

Renjun had accidentally tapped on one once. He'd gotten ten seconds in before he had to exit out of the whole app.

_ “Renjunnie, I’m missing you again. I tried to cook for myself tonight and I almost cut my fingers trying to peel potatoes. You were always better than me at that. I wish—”  _

One push on the home button to exit the app. Two more clicks on the home button to open the app manager, and one swipe of his finger to close out of the app software entirely. That was quite enough for the night.

The frequency of voice messages slowly tapered the longer that Jeno was gone and stopped coming altogether after he sent his own back but that didn’t make the existing messages go away, nor less tempting to open.

Renjun had known from the start that theirs was a difficult situation. In any other universe, their love would’ve been inexorable. A functioning relationship just wasn’t in the books for them in this one. Not when Jeno had such a good opportunity with his father’s company, in a position overseas.

Jeno had told him early on, what he’d been raised to take on from his family. Renjun wasn’t blindsided when Jeno came home from a meeting one day with heavy eyes and a heavier heart, just grew a little rougher around the edges. He was moving abroad any time now, so they put an end to it first. Knowing didn’t make letting him leave any easier.

Renjun couldn’t do long distance, it just wasn’t something he could foresee working out for them. He got too lonely, needed more than phone calls and quarterly visits. So did Jeno, even if he wouldn’t admit it. It would be futile to try, so why bother? He remembers saying something like, “Let’s not ruin the good memories we have together already.”

As if that statement would serve him any purpose later. He keeps finding himself on his couch with the chat open, lying listlessly and eyes almost zoning out as he contemplates opening another message.

Just one wouldn’t hurt, right? It probably wouldn’t be anything noteworthy. Jeno used to send messages just to say that he saw a dog in the park on his lunch break, joy inflected in his tone.

He almost drops his phone on his face because he’s getting a call and the shock of it startles him. It’s Donghyuck, and he picks up on the second ring. 

“What? I’m busy.” Busy wallowing by himself, maybe, but he's okay with letting Donghyuck think otherwise.

Yet, ten minutes later and he’s tidying himself up, getting ready to go out and meet Donghyuck at a café. Better to go out than stay in, he thinks. At least he won’t be by himself with only Jeno’s messages and his own thoughts to keep him company. He glances around his apartment, making sure that he has everything.

His gaze catches on Jeno’s coat, still where he left it on the hook months ago, back in spring when the days were longer and warmer. Renjun had cleared space for his coat because they’d assumed he would need it once autumn came, with how often he stayed over. Only, they didn’t make it that far and it’s taunting him now, makes it seem like Jeno’s still there, just out of sight.

In reality, Jeno had left in such a rush that he’d forgotten to take his things. Renjun wonders how he fared that night, wandering the streets of Seoul in just a thin sweater. The weather was hardly cold, then, but it was a long way back. Then he remembers who Jeno is and realizes that he probably just hailed a taxi across the river to his own apartment, the one he’d barely occupied since they started getting serious.

Renjun wonders if his apartment looks the same now, or if it’s all packed up in preparation for Jeno to move. Renjun wonders a lot of things; none are good for his peace of mind.

Donghyuck shows up at the café sometime during Renjun’s second cup of tea. He looks a little bit of a mess and he seems to know it. 

“What’s up with you?” Renjun questions warily.

The thing about heartbreak is that it can be firecracker loud, explosive brightness, before fizzling out into smoky remains, only a mess up close. Renjun denied himself that grace period when he chose to keep his relationship under wraps, although he can’t see the good in that decision now.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, has been wearing heartbreak like a second skin for the whole summer. From what Renjun knew, Mark had left abruptly back in June to take a clerkship under his father’s law firm in Canada. At least, that was the official position.

Off the record, well. Donghyuck had stayed over at Renjun's apartment for the entirety of last semester's finals week after what he called, "an exhausting fight," and Mark was gone by the time he went home. Renjun hadn't pried into the situation during Donghyuck's occupation of his couch lest he disturb him from studying, but the explanation he got afterwards was confusing. From what he'd parsed together through Donghyuck's jumbled rants, Mark had left so as not to be a burden anymore.

Renjun was lost on the meaning without the context of the fight but it’s a classic Mark move, the self-sacrificial hero that he carries himself to be. He’d hold up the sky by himself without complaints, even if no one asked him to. Renjun suppressed his own curiosity to be there for Donghyuck instead, since it seemed he couldn't connect the dots either.

Last he saw, Donghyuck was fitting into the role of scorned lover quite nicely, fuming every time Mark’s name was brought up in conversation. This Donghyuck looks a little miserable, a backward step in his progress towards moving on, or whatever he was trying to achieve with his self-denial act.

It’s clear that Donghyuck is still in love with Mark, or at least it’s obvious to  _ him _ . Renjun can’t tell if Donghyuck is just as transparent to everyone else, or if they’re just members of a sad, little heartbreak club. He doesn’t bring it up to Jaemin or the others; the less he talks about matters of the heart (his own or otherwise) the better. It’s for his own good— or at least that’s what he tells himself.

“I texted Mark today.” Renjun pauses mid-sip as Donghyuck drops into an armchair and immediately starts talking, paying no mind to the coffee sloshing precariously inside his mug. 

“I don't get it because he won't talk to me directly but he’s been talking to everyone else and sending them money to— to buy me food? I don’t know, Jaemin showed up out of nowhere with coffee for me a while ago and then Chenle and Jisung brought over croissants earlier. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jeno shows up outside my class tomorrow with, like, a cake or something. Did he contact you?”

Renjun takes a moment to relax, shoulders having gone tense as soon as Jeno was mentioned.  _ Nobody knows, Renjun, be chill. _ “No, we haven’t talked since he left, but it kinda makes sense. Before I am anyone else, I’m  _ your _ best friend.”

Donghyuck smiles a little at that, although stress still lines his posture. “I told him to stop. Basically said that if he wanted to talk to me, he could just text instead of doing...whatever this is. I really don’t know what he’s trying to do. What does it mean when your ex starts sending you messages through your friends from thousands of kilometers away after months of barely replying to you?”

Renjun is a little speechless. “That’s...yeah, that’s a tough one, dude.” The more he tries to make sense of Mark and Jeno and contextualize all of this, the angrier he gets. “That’s honestly kind of unfair of him. What is he expecting, that you’ll just accept whatever from him after he ghosted you?” 

Talking out Donghyuck’s struggles helps to distract him from his own relationship issues and Renjun takes the opportunity to subtly vent out his own problems although he knows it’s different. Mark seems persistent about getting Donghyuck’s attention in this roundabout way, even asking their friends to help him out. Donghyuck has a strong support system and a boy who still seems to care about him much more than he’d been letting on.

Renjun hasn’t been afforded quite the same, although it's mostly by fault of his own. None of their motley crew knew about him and Jeno as anything more than friends, and he’d told Jeno himself to stop sending messages. Still, the unread messages in his chat inbox tell a different story about Jeno’s persistence. He may not have the support system but Jeno definitely cared.

He’s properly getting riled up, about to offer to fight Mark as soon as he gets back to Korea, when Donghyuck’s phone chimes with a message. They both fall silent. He gestures for Donghyuck to read it, the other boy physically checking out of the conversation with glazed eyes that dart towards his phone every five seconds. Donghyuck aims a sheepish, apologetic look in his direction and quickly taps into the notification.

At his resounding silence, Renjun can tell that Mark had finally messaged him directly. Donghyuck's face is unreadable about whatever he's seeing but Renjun offers his best friend services anyway.

“Seriously, dude, it’s me, him, and a rooftop as soon as he gets back. I’ll pummel him for you, just say the word.”

Donghyuck sits back in his chair, one hand loosely holding his phone and the other coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. For a long minute, it looks like he’s going to take Renjun up on it, then his face clears.

“I think,” he says slowly, “I’m going to go home and call him. Sorry, Junnie, it’s just— Fuck the timezones, I need answers.”

Renjun nods vigorously in agreement. He waves Donghyuck off with one last parting advice about actualizing self-care and prioritizing self-love, whatever he’d heard on his weekly mental health podcast. If he couldn’t take the advice, might as well pass it on.

Donghyuck nods bemusedly and is gone within a minute. Renjun leans back, feeling drained. Donghyuck’s problems did not end up being a good distraction for his own; if anything, it only exacerbated the situation. Here Mark is, trying to do  _ something _ , and Donghyuck seems somewhat open to resolution. Wasn’t Jeno trying to do something of the same?

He opens their chat and stares. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to listen to just one more message, see what else Jeno had to say. See if he's right about his Dog in the Park theory. He digs his headphones out of his pockets and plugs it into the jack, hesitantly tapping on a message from early September. Immediately, Jeno’s rich voice sounds in his ears.

_ “I miss when you used to send me songs you thought I’d like. I heard one of them in a taxi today and I asked the driver to turn the volume up, just like you used to. When I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine you were here with me.” _

Renjun bites back a gasp.

_ “I don’t hear them the same way when I’m by myself. It sounds hazy, no matter how loud I turn it. I think it’s because thoughts of you drown out all the other noise in my head. Sorry. I know you just cringed. I did too.” _

He hates that it’s true, that his shoulders are bunched up around his neck now and that Jeno knows him well enough to tell. _Well,_ he thinks, _fuck this._ Renjun almost rips the earbuds out of his ears, wires flying and entangling as he yanks the plug out and shoves the headphones back into his pocket. Renjun doesn’t know if it helped anything, much less sate his curiosity, but the smooth timbre of Jeno’s voice has evoked something almost visceral in him. 

He drains the rest of his drink and brings the tray back to the cashier before high-tailing it out of the café. He’ll swing back home and grab his camera and head out to take some pictures. Somewhere new that he’s never been before, a part of the city that exists without Jeno’s presence. Somewhere that he could forget that he is Huang Renjun and there is a Lee Jeno somewhere else in the city not by his side.

-

FROM SEPTEMBER 10

_ I think I’ve inadvertently memorized the view outside your bedroom window because I dreamed about it last night. The bakery downstairs with the light blue tarp, the little boy from the building across the street that always has his windows open, the auntie next to him hanging clothes to dry on the clothesline. The potted plants on your balcony. I forgot their names, I’m sorry. Do you still have the bamboo I gave you? ...It’s okay if you don’t. _

-

Renjun is fifteen minutes out of a meeting in Gangnam when he skims the edge of trouble. It’s been a solid two weeks since he opened Jeno’s message, a solid two days since he caved and opened another one, and he’s gliding through the rest of the semester on autopilot.

His professor had introduced him to a friend at the mid-term showcase, someone who owned a gallery in an affluent area of the city that was interested in potentially displaying his work. It was a golden opportunity, one that didn’t come often, so Renjun had set aside his qualms about going into Jeno’s part of town and made the trek on public transport.

The buildings here are shiny and tall, smooth pavement free of debris and at least three bougie cafés right down the street. It was a productive meeting, one he’d left with paperwork to look over and business cards tucked into his wallet.

Of course, his good luck would be offset by some bad. He’s collecting his drink at the café counter when he turns around and catches a glimpse through the floor-to-ceiling windows of soft brown hair, a stylish black trench coat, and a sharp jawline. There are a million men in this city that it could be, but Renjun knows it’s his. On this side of the river, it’s unmistakable.

For the first time in months, he gets an eyeful of Lee Jeno and it’s like a fucking sucker punch to his guts. In this concrete jungle, it’s like sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees, dancing on the leaves. Amongst the drab grey of glistening office buildings, it’s temporary illumination as Jeno walks down the street before he disappears between stoic businessmen and trendy teens. He hadn’t seen Renjun, and he’s gone as quickly as he came.

Renjun blinks and nearly wonders if he made up the sight. He almost crushes his to-go cup with how hard he’s gripping it. Another shop patron clears their throat politely behind him, inclining their head towards the counter that Renjun is blocking. He lowers his own head apologetically, rushing out the door towards the subway. It was well past time to get out of this part of the city.

-

FROM SEPTEMBER 15

_ I remember sometimes, you used to text me random little things that you needed to jot down. ‘Ignore this, I just need to write it down to remember.’ I wish you’d start doing that again. I liked seeing them, these tiny excerpts of your life. _

Seen.

_ Your half-finished grocery list, a string of numbers that only made sense to you, a reminder to yourself about someone’s birthday coming up soon. I miss those. It made me feel like I had an exclusive look into your mind and all the beautiful things that go on in there. How you would always preface these messages with, ‘ignore this.’ As if I could. _

Seen.

_ One text from you and I’m thinking about it for the rest of the day. In the middle of meetings thinking about if you’d gone to the grocery store to pick up some apples yet. If you’d emailed your landlord about that leaky shower yet. Sometimes, I want to respond. I’ll pick up some apples after work. I’ll come over and take a look at that for you. _

Seen.

_ But I was always afraid that if I’d responded, that you would stop. That you’d realize you were texting a real person instead of writing a note to yourself and that you’d think you were bothering me. Renjun, I wish you’d bother me more. You have no idea how badly I want to see one of those little lists right now...I hope you had a good day today. _

Seen.

-

The weather changes and Renjun’s mood worsens. Autumn has properly arrived, and too often he’s reminded of how this time last year, he was trying seasonal drinks and tugging Jeno’s scarf tighter around him. He could almost choke on the nostalgia. The anguish rolls over in his guts like a tempestuous sea.

He’s been finding himself staying up until the early morning more and more lately, unable to drift off. No playlist, podcast, or TV show helps. Trying to do his class readings just results in him back on social media after ten minutes, five-minute breaks turning into hours lost. His concentration is shot.

Rolling around in his mattress, Renjun sighs and ultimately throws the blankets off. He shuffles across the studio into his kitchenette, filling up the electric kettle and turning it on by muscle memory. He stands there, arms wrapped around himself, blinking into the darkness, for minutes. 

It’s the most human he’s felt in days. He stretches and allows his body to just ache, sinew over bone, bending but not breaking. 

The kettle clicks off and he finally feels along the wall for the light switch, squeezing his eyes shut when it flickers on until he can open them without being blinded. He makes tea without finesse, almost scalding his fingers in his haze.

His phone briefly illuminates against his bedside table, vibration buzzing against the wood. Then it goes off again, and again. He brings his tea over, runs back to shut off the light, then flops into bed. He grabs for his phone and discovers it’s a barrage of messages from Jaemin, apparently drunk.

From what Renjun can tell, he’s out with his coworkers and he hates it. Knowing how enthusiastic Jaemin’s work seniors were about social drinking, Renjun winces in sympathy. He replies with an offer to make dinner for him after work tomorrow and a demand to send a text when he gets home from the bar.

Blowing on his tea to cool it, he quickly chugs it down and settles back into bed. Once he receives Jaemin’s reply, a series of crying emojis and hearts, he puts his phone down and studies the ceiling until he falls asleep.

-

Rubbing at his shoulder to loosen up the tense muscles there, Renjun keys in the passcode to Jaemin’s apartment. Studio hours were killing him, but at least he is making good progress with his thesis. His mood has lifted considerably since this morning.

Then he opens the door and the first thing he sees is brown hair, button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tie still knotted at the base of his collarbone, pure sin. He’s almost proud of himself for not bolting immediately.

Lee Jeno sits on the couch, one foot on the ground and the other resting on his knee. He’s on the phone, humming in agreement to something, when he spots Renjun.

Renjun’s first thought is that Jeno looks like a goddamn Greek statue, like something that he’s studied in art history. Poised on the couch like he’s been waiting for someone to show up, a Calypso in his own right. Does that make Renjun the self-proclaimed hero? More fitting, Jeno is Odysseus, wasting away time and shirking responsibility in a place he isn’t meant to be.

Perhaps Renjun can be someone else, another myth altogether. Perhaps he is more like Heracles, learning that when you cut one hydra head off, two more grow back— burning heads off at the stumps. That isn’t quite right either; their relationship is no monster despite how ugly it has grown. They’re just boys in love, and Renjun will keep slashing half-heartedly at the multiplying heads until he is devoured whole.

His mind is falling in on itself with the onslaught of emotions but Renjun can still tell the exact moment Jeno’s attention shifts, when his composure slips. His grip on the phone slackens a little, and his eyes widen in surprise. He remains silent as Renjun toes off his shoes and pads into the kitchen, but he hears him clear his throat and resume conversation as he turns on the lights. He’s not speaking in Korean. English. Huh.

Renjun ignores his proximity in favor of squinting at the recipe he’d pulled up on Jaemin’s laptop. (Note to self: remind Jaemin to change his computer password. It was much too easy to guess— his mother’s birthday, same as his door code.) The refrigerator slams, the knife hits the chopping board, the gas stove clicks on and the burner lights up. He focuses on these sounds to distract from the familiar voice in the distance.

In the living room, the call seems to end and Renjun almost breaks out into a sweat at the conversation he’s about to endure in less than a minute. Should he bring up the messages or not? Maybe that’d be too mortifying. Everything that Jeno said in them, at least in the ones he’d opened, weren’t typically things he’d say in person.

If Renjun really sits down to think about it, he shouldn’t really be surprised about Jeno’s messages. Although Jeno’s never typically been the type to use words to express himself, these don’t really feel like declarations of love. If anything, it’s just his train of thought, the one that he usually keeps to himself because he has the opportunity to show his love in other ways. Add in distance and Jeno continues showing his loyalty in the only way he’s able.

In his peripheral vision, Jeno steps into the light of the kitchen and halts. He’s waiting for Renjun to make the first move, the opposite of what he’s been doing these past few months. Renjun braces himself a little on the counter and turns his head. Jeno’s gaze meets his, unfaltering, and he flushes a little. Renjun has never been one to back down from attention, but it’s been a while since he’s had Jeno’s, undivided.

“I see you still can’t knot a tie properly,” he tries to tease lightly. Not the best thing to start off with, he immediately reflects, but he refuses to regret it. He used to knot Jeno’s ties for him, either after breakfast together or from bed, still half-asleep. In all honesty, it was probably more convenient to just teach Jeno how to do it right on his own but he liked the routine of it, huddling close together in a quiet moment.

To his credit, Jeno goes along with the conversation. “A couple Youtube videos later and I still don’t quite have the hang of it, but I’d say it’s better than it used to be, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” It’s awkward. God, they’re so awkward. It was never like this before, even when they barely knew each other. What does he say now?

“I saw that you,” Jeno stops just as quickly as he started. Renjun looks at him expectantly. 

Jeno tries again, brows furrowing as he thinks over his words. “Is it bad that I replayed your message an embarrassing amount of times? I know it’s you basically telling me to fuck off, but it’s also you saying that you miss me and,” here he slows down. “Hope is a heady thing.”

Renjun flounders for a moment and all he can think about is what the fuck to do with his hands, because he doesn’t know where to put them that will quell his urge to cup Jeno’s face. He ends up shoving them in his pockets. “God, Jeno,” he exhales, “I wasn’t telling you to fuck off.”

He glares at the ingredients he’s chopped up, mind running on overdrive as he tries to figure out how to explain his actions. “Do you want noodle soup?” is what he continues with, in the end, one hand lifting up the chopping board to toss the ingredients into the boiling beef broth.

“Renjun—”

“I’m not trying to get out of this conversation. We can talk. I just need to know if I’m cooking for three tonight.”

Jeno nods silently and Renjun nods back, turning away to sort through his thoughts under the poor guise of rummaging through Jaemin’s fridge for more ingredients.

“I just don’t know what we’re doing here. You were leaving so we ended things and I expected a clean break but you’re still here and you were still talking to me and I am just...extremely confused.”

He speaks this all into the fridge and probably leaves his heart beating between a box of strawberries and a loaf of bread. He doesn’t even know if that was coherent, but Jeno always was a good listener.

He closes the fridge door with some garlic in hand and almost jumps because Jeno is a lot closer now, leaning with his back against the counter next to the stove.

“I expected a clean break too,” Jeno confesses quietly, “because everyone expected me to leave and you told me that I should as well. The thing is...the more I prepare for this transfer, the more I realize that I don’t really want to move. I love this city, I’ve missed this country, and I’m not ready to let you go.”

The kitchen feels like a circuit board, electricity whipping through the charged air.

“It just felt so strange not talking to you. About the messages. I’m sorry, I would’ve stopped earlier if I’d known it made you uncomfortable.” He wrings his hands lightly, a nervous habit that Renjun still finds cute, even months later.

Renjun opens and shuts his mouth, for once unsure of what to say. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Confused, sure, but not uncomfortable. Never with Jeno.

Jeno clears his throat and steps away from the counter, glancing towards the stove. “Um, the soup is about to boil over.”

Renjun twists around and curses, rushing to lower the heat. He bobs his head in acknowledgment at Jeno muttering that he’ll be in the living room, probably leaving to give Renjun time to process, or maybe just to prevent him from getting distracted and burning down the kitchen.

Eventually, they curl up on the couch with steaming bowls of noodles resting on the coffee table in front of them. “Renjun,” Jeno starts but is interrupted by his phone ringing. His eyes flicker down and he groans, muttering, “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this.”

He waves him off, opening up Jaemin’s laptop again and logging into his school email. He’ll just work on his thesis paper until Jaemin gets back. His fingers start tapping as the page loads.

Does he really want to pursue this conversation with Jeno? Would it change anything? He only came to make sure Jaemin was eating anyway, maybe stay to help him study. He didn't come prepared for this emotional confrontation. Maybe he should leave as soon as he gets a look at Jaemin.

He’s immersed in writing by the time Jeno’s phone call ends, or at least passably pretending to be immersed. Jeno doesn’t bother him, instead quietly starting in on his bowl of noodles and clicking the TV on, volume low.

There's a nervous energy to the room, just as Renjun predicted, but sitting together is oddly comforting as well. It’s too reminiscent of what they used to do when Jeno came over from work and Renjun was studying. They eat in silence with some drama rerun playing, Renjun trying and failing to soak in a research article.

He starts fidgeting in his seat. Eventually, he gets up to walk into the kitchen, excusing himself by saying he needs a glass of water. Out of habit, he asks if Jeno wants one too. Once he’s hidden behind the wall, he takes several deep breaths and attempts to calm himself down. He should not be getting this worked up.

He needs to get over this; it’s been months, and he’s never going to be completely rid of Lee Jeno. They share too many mutual friends, this situation at Jaemin’s place a prime example of that. Renjun just wasn’t expecting Jeno to still be in the country at this point. He doesn’t know why Jeno’s dad hasn’t moved him abroad yet, and wonders how much it has to do with what Jeno confessed earlier.

He wraps his hands around the cool glasses for a moment, condensation and chill seeping into his palms. Then, he heads back into the battlefield of modern furniture and impressionist paintings. He moves to set Jeno’s glass down on the table by his bowl but Jeno’s hand wraps around it before he can let go, their fingers brushing.

Jeno says, “I’ve missed this.”

At this point, Renjun is almost scared to ask for an elaboration. He’s not sure he can handle whatever comes out of Jeno’s mouth. “Missed what?”

Jeno shrugs, casual, as he takes a sip. “The way you always ask me if I want water when you get up to get some for yourself, even if we’ve been sitting here in silence so long that I start to doubt if you even remember that I’m in the room. It’s cute.”

Renjun feels scraped raw. “Oh,” he chokes out. Maybe he should just leave and take a rain check with Jaemin. Jeno is here and Renjun could trust him to kick Jaemin’s ass if he looked anything other than healthy. He stays standing, picking up his bowl to bring it to his mouth and gulping down the rest of his broth. 

“I’ll be back soon, Junnie.” Jeno speaks up, softly, before he could act on his impulses. It’s not a promise. More of a plea. He hates breaking promises, so he never says the phrase that binds his words.

He thinks back on what Jeno said earlier, in the kitchen. He thinks back on everything they agreed on when they started falling for each other, that their individual lives would come first. “I’m not asking you to let me go, I’m asking you to...take a walk. Take a walk, smell the flowers, come back when you’re done and we’ll see from there.”

“I don’t have to accept this position, you know. It’s just a trial run. There are other candidates. I could find something here.”

He shakes his head and turns to head back into the kitchen to wash his dishes. “I would never ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Jeno calls after him.

“Jeno, this is your career, it’s something bigger than us—”

“No. I’ve had a lot of time to think on this, you know? I’m not going into this recklessly. You are far more important than this project. Another one will come up, in a few months or a year or whatever. You and I are  _ now _ . If we don’t work on this now, I’m afraid that I’ll lose this forever. And that’s far more important than whatever assignment they want to put me on.”

It’s almost intoxicating, how confident Jeno sounds. Renjun wishes the logic made sense to him. He opens his mouth to protest but Jeno barrels on, following after him.

“You know what’s more important than data analysis meetings and investor lunches and conference calls?” Jeno places his empty bowl down on the kitchen island. “Getting to eat breakfast with you in the mornings. I swear to the ends of the earth, the sight of you sipping on orange juice is infinitely more important than whichever old man is trying to kiss up to me to get into my father’s good graces.”

He steps closer until he crowds Renjun against the counter. He rests one hand on the marble countertop, right next to Renjun’s waist, and Renjun reflexively reaches for it. “You make my veins combust. It’s like my blood turns to lava every time I catch a glimpse of you, my body freezes and I run hot. Why would I  _ ever _ want to walk away from that?”

“I want you,” Jeno breathes out, his hand a grounding point on Renjun’s shoulder as his thumb rubs over his pulse, “irrevocably.”

His words are cloying, making Renjun’s head spin. A few moments pass and they’re still in the same position. “You’re not running away,” he murmurs. He's not used to this shameless Jeno, no trace of embarrassment found in his features.

Jeno slowly leans down, forehead pressing against Renjun’s own. The weight and warmth of it is familiar, and he closes his eyes to take it all in. Renjun misses kissing Jeno, but more than that, he misses the simple touches like these. “No. Not anymore.”

“Please don’t act as if I am giving up some great thing,” Jeno says, after a pause. “I only got this far through nepotism, anyway; they can find me something else to do, or I can find something better suited for me, I swear. Trust in me that I know what I’m doing.”

The thing about Renjun is that he usually knows when to give up. When a joke falls flat or the finish line seems to get further away the more he runs, he knows when to stop. He thought he knew when to give up on this relationship, but maybe things weren’t as simple as he wanted them to be.

Above anything, it’s Jeno’s blunt honesty that gets to him. This moment feels catalytic.

“I just...why—”

Over his pounding heartbeat and the rush in his ears that comes from extremely close proximity to Jeno, he hears the light notes of buttons being pressed into a keypad. Jeno falls away from him to head back into the living room, his hand slipping out of Renjun’s grip. Renjun isn’t even sure when he took hold of it, but the sudden absence of calloused fingers in his palm feels monumental. He takes a moment to collect himself.

“Jeno! Hi, did I forget about some plans we made tonight?” Jaemin’s voice floats over into the kitchen. Renjun takes a few tentative steps over to lean against the entrance to the living room, meeting Jaemin’s eyes with a hopefully welcoming smile.

“No, I just got out of a meeting and your place was closer than mine. Sorry for interrupting your night.”

“Hey, it’s no bother to me.”

Renjun’s gaze falls away, darting to the ground as he remembers Jeno’s message.  _ I wish you’d bother me more. _ Jeno’s eyes are still carefully focused on Jaemin when he looks back up, to his relief.

“Renjun?” Jaemin is addressing him and he blinks.

“Sorry, what?”

“I was going to ask if you were okay with upping the portion of whatever you’re making so Jeno can join.”

“Actually, Renjun already made me some fantastic noodle soup and I’m,” he glances towards Renjun, “feeling a little tired so I think I’ll head home before I crash. Thanks, though.” Jeno starts heading towards the door before either of them can speak up, patting Jaemin’s head fondly as he passes.

“Well, wait, you can crash here if you want. Did you drive today?”

“It’s fine, Nana, I’m gonna call a cab home. I’ll probably see you sometime next week, yeah?” Jaemin hums noncommittally as Jeno pulls on his shoes. “Renjun,” he looks up at the sound of his name with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Jeno drinks in the view. “Thanks for everything, and...think about it, okay?” He aims a small smile at him and reaches into the closet for his coat.

It’s not a coat that Renjun recognizes, grey and woolen. He must’ve gotten it to replace the one still at Renjun’s apartment. He can’t help but think about how Jeno is leaving again, calling a taxi to get away from him. Except Jeno is taking his coat, and Jaemin is here, and it’s a completely different situation, and still, Renjun doesn’t have anything to say.

In the end, he chokes out a, “Yeah, sure. Get home safe, Jeno.” It sounds strained to him, and even Jaemin seems to notice from how his eyes are darting between the two. Then, Jeno’s gone and Renjun is turning back to the kitchen before Jaemin can say anything. “Go shower and change, dude, you stink. I’ll heat up the noodles for you.”

Jaemin, unsurprisingly, doesn’t listen. He follows Renjun back into the other room, stretching his arms above his head as he walks. “So what did you and Jeno talk about while I was at work? I didn’t realize you two were...close?” Renjun could almost laugh in his face. If only he knew how close they had been.

“Just plotting how to fake your death and split your estate and holdings between us so that we could go into early retirement. The usual.”

Jaemin lingers at the kitchen island for a moment longer, knuckles drumming a light pattern on the marble as he takes in the scene. Empty bowls on the table, the one blanket they’d shared between them earlier thrown haphazardly back onto the couch. Then, he hums as if he's uncovered something interesting but starts heading towards his bedroom without another word, unbuttoning his shirt as he leaves.

Renjun’s shoulders loosen and he takes a second between stirring in fresh ingredients to be grateful for Jaemin’s ability to know when to let topics go.

-

FROM SEPTEMBER 17

_ “Whenever you drift into my thoughts, I always take a second to pray that you had a good day. I hope you’ll respond to me one day and tell me about it. I hope we can stay friends.” _

-

Jeno’s absence was profound but he’s adapted. It’s more of a dull ache now, but occasionally it provokes something acute— like when the weather changes, and he suddenly finds himself in bed with cold feet and no warm calves to rest them on. Poignant moments in the monotony of weeks, in between the litany of assignments and errands.

In the long gaps between these tiny heartbreaks, he’s spent the past couple of months slowly pulling himself back together. It started with learning how to be by himself again, cooking himself comfort food in excess and taking long, soothing baths for no reason other than to allow himself to do nothing.

He makes an effort to go outside more, calling up Jaemin to join him on romps around the city for photography sessions, Jisung for impromptu movie nights. He even tries out being Chenle’s new basketball buddy in the place of Mark, but they both hate it and decide to get mala instead. He accepts most invitations to hang out, carefully sidestepping the ones that involve Jeno. It works, for the most part.

Sure, he still has not so great days where all he wants to do is think about Jeno, despite what he told himself. The difference is that he can also start to see himself potentially moving on. 

Now, in light of seeing Jeno again, it is only a matter of whether he wants to.

He finds himself over at Donghyuck’s apartment a lot as well. Donghyuck lets him spread out on his floor and work on his thesis without much fuss, keeping him company at his desk as he switches between watching dramas and playing games on his dual monitors. It’s not as quiet as with Jeno—Donghyuck likes to keep a running commentary full of snark— but it’s just as nice. Most of the time, it ends with them seated side by side eating takeout while shouting at the characters.

Today, he’s stretching his legs as Donghyuck goes to the bathroom. He peers down at his work and sighs. He’d been in the middle of working on his paper when his laptop died, and he’d forgotten to bring his charger. He hops over the mess of papers to Donghyuck’s desk, aiming to quickly log into his cloud to see how much of his work was saved. The tab pulled up on Donghyuck’s second monitor makes him pause.

It’s a world map, red line arching over the Pacific to connect Seoul to Vancouver. The site says the distance is 8,154 kilometers. Donghyuck appears in the doorway in the next moment, dramatically extending his legs to sidestep Renjun’s work and latch onto him.

“What’s up, Junnie?” Renjun tilts his head towards the screen and watches Donghyuck’s expression dim as he notices. Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair and falls back into his gamer chair. “It’s no big deal, I was just bringing up a point to Mark on call yesterday and forgot to close the tab.”

He carefully asks, "So you and Mark are on speaking terms again?"

Donghyuck spins around in his chair a few rotations as he answers, as if he doesn't want to make eye contact with Renjun. "Tentatively, and on my terms. He always asks first before he calls and accepts it if I'm not in the mood to talk. Sometimes I call him first. It's _something_ at least, I don't know." He stops in place, eyes tracing over the distance between him and Mark, across imaginary border lines, across shades of green and blue. Not a big deal, he says. 

Renjun is hit with a pang of guilt because he doesn’t even need to pull up a map. He knows exactly where Jeno is. It only takes a train ride to dissolve the space between them.

And above anything else, it’s the guilt crashing over him that finally makes him break.

"That's really good, Donghyuck, I'm happy for you." His heart thrums as he readies himself to give away this truth that he'd kept to himself. He takes a deep breath and, with an affected casual tone, doles out, “I was dating Jeno, this time last year.”

That captures Donghyuck’s attention quicker than lightning. “Was?” The expression on Renjun’s face must say lots because Donghyuck is immediately out of his seat to grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen. Renjun settles down on the floor again.

It all spills out of Renjun as they drink up; the way they started getting closer and decided to see each other despite the inevitable separation, the way they haven’t quite let go of each other despite what they agreed to, the messages that Jeno sent, the messages that he had yet to open. The offer Jeno had made.

“Must be serious,” Donghyuck comments once Renjun is done, “you know Jeno’s never been one to express his love in words.”

He flushes. “It wasn’t that serious at first. I— it wasn’t like you and Mark. We didn’t live together and we both worked long days so I didn’t even see him that often. I don’t even really know when it all changed, it’s like one day he was sending late-night dinner to my art studio and suddenly he knows the passcode to my apartment because he’s sleeping over most of the week.”

Donghyuck nods solemnly. “That’s how the pretty, rich boys always get you.”

“And we allow that because…?”

“Because by some miracle, ours also happen to be somewhat loveable.”

He considers that for a moment, then pours himself another glass.

“Why did you keep it a secret?” Donghyuck doesn’t sound mad, just curious. It’s something that Renjun has thought a lot about, but he still doesn’t know if he has a good answer.

“I don’t think either of us really realized how deep in it we were until it really sunk in that he left. I don’t know. It was so easy to make excuses and convince ourselves that it was just for fun. Besides, it’s not like we were trying especially hard to hide it. It’s really just, nobody ever noticed and we never saw the need to say anything.”

That makes Donghyuck laugh a little. “Honestly, I think all of us did notice that  _ something _ was going on. We just didn’t know how big a deal it was, and we all knew he was leaving so...we didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry, that’s a shitty excuse. I should’ve asked. You’ve been dealing with this all on your own, that sucks.”

Renjun shakes his head with a rueful smile. “It’s okay. We did it to ourselves.”

Donghyuck worries at his lip, hesitating, before speaking up. “I mean, it sounds like you’re trying to do what’s best for him, but Junnie...have you considered that he has a different idea of what’s best for himself?” He gets out of his chair to kneel beside Renjun.

“I mean, no offense, but you and Mark are the same type of idiot. You know, he tried to tell me some nonsense about not wanting to hold me back with all of his problems. Look at me now, Renjun. Do I look like the best version of myself now that he’s gone?”

Renjun takes a little offense. He was offering to fight Mark for his actions not that long ago but he’s starting to see the similarities and it’s smarting to his pride.

“It’s not the same,” he tries to counter. “I just don’t think it’s as easy as saying no. Not when it’s such a big opportunity—”

“Men like Jeno,” Donghyuck is quick to interrupt, “they get big opportunities offered to them all the time, on silver platters. You and I both know that so I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to pretend it’s not the truth. Come on, Renjun, I thought you were a bit of a hopeless romantic. You should trust him if he tells you he wants to stay.”

Renjun sits up and leans back against the frame of the bed. Donghyuck tugs at a lock of his hair as he does so, making him wince. “Besides, don’t be so full of yourself. He’s not staying just for you, right? You know he was gone all those years for school. I think he mostly just wants a permanent home again. You just so happen to be part of that.”

There’s a beat of silence before he relents. “Since when did you start giving out good advice? I thought that was my thing.”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “It’s my turn, Junnie, this is a mutualistic relationship. I don’t know, I think that talking to Mark again, really talking, has...given me perspective, I guess.”

“So communication is the key to a healthy relationship? Who would’ve thought.”

“I know right,” Donghyuck moans. “See, this is why we’re soulmates. You get me.”

Renjun drains his glass. “Mark better watch out before he comes back to find us committed to each other and living together in the apartment he still helps pay for.”

“Mark can suck a dick, and I say that in the most he-is-probably-the-love-of-my-life way.” Donghyuck reaches over to wrap his arms around Renjun, and he relaxes into the hug.

“I should’ve talked to you ages ago.”

“Maybe. It’s okay, though. Nothing that treating me to dinner sometime won’t fix.”

He rolls his eyes even if his face is buried into Donghyuck’s hair. “Should I get Mark to send me the money for that?”

“That is so foul of you!” Donghyuck cries, shoving Renjun away, but he’s chuckling. “I told him to quit doing that, by the way. Full disclosure, though, the last few times we’ve ordered takeout was definitely paid for using the money he left in our emergency jar.”

Renjun buries his head in his knees to stifle his laughter. Donghyuck’s hand reaches up to rub at the back of Renjun’s neck and his voice grows softer. “It’s up to you what to do with Jeno, but I think you should at least listen to the rest of his messages.”

Renjun sighs but agrees. He’s not sure what stopped him from doing so after seeing Jeno the other day but he hasn’t opened their chat since. Something seems to have shifted now, the effect of a good talk with his best friend.

He packs up his work, assuring Donghyuck that he’s not too tipsy to get home, and claps him on the back farewell when he’s done. “Come over to mine later this week and I’ll cook you dinner, okay?”

“Okay, bye! Love you,” Donghyuck calls out as Renjun leaves. He usually walks him out but Renjun can see his phone lighting up with an incoming video call and decides to leave him be. He digs in his pocket for his headphones as he closes the door behind him.

Jeno’s voice accompanies him as he walks towards the subway station, weeks-old messages finally getting played.

_ “I went out to dinner with my coworkers tonight and guess where they took me? That...that hot pot restaurant you mentioned a while back. I know you really wanted to come here for the free birthday meal thing, I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to take you.” _

_ “Do you know how many seconds there are in a day? Do you know how many of them I spend thinking of you? Sorry, just realized how cringy that sounds. I was going for sentimental but it just sounds like those bad pickup lines you used to read to me.” _

_ “I had a long lunch break today. My meeting let out early so I went to that park I took you to all those months ago, that one with the tteokbokki cart. The seller recognized me. He asked where my boyfriend was. It’s been a long time since anybody’s referred to you as my boyfriend.” _

Renjun stops in the middle of the sidewalk to press his palms against his eyes, not crying but definitely feeling pressure rising in his head. Despite what he told Jeno weeks ago about not wanting to hear his voice, he can admit to himself that it's more than a little cathartic to listen to him recount their adventures together. It makes him feel a little less lonely since he didn’t have anybody else to talk to about it until now. It makes their year together seem a little more real, too.

_ “I was so happy about that and so ashamed to tell him the truth that I bought two servings of tteokbokki and acted like one was for you. I couldn’t finish them both. Obviously. I remember how you used to finish yours and even dig into mine. If I close my eyes and focus hard enough, I can almost hear your voice asking me for a bite, just a bite. I’d buy you endless servings of tteokbokki if you just asked.” _

The last message starts inside the subway station as he taps his transportation card onto the reader, pushing through the turnstile into the inner station.

_ “There are a million reasons to love you, and sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I’m afraid that I’ll wake up and forget them, but then I go to sleep anyway because I have work in the morning but mostly because I know that if I forget, I’ll be able to think up a million more reasons.” _

The messages all play, one by one, and he lets them wash over him. He feels a bit like he’s jumped into a frozen lake and he’s trying to heave himself out with frostbitten fingers. The last message was sent on the day they’d talked at Jaemin’s, an answer to some question Renjun hadn’t even gotten to ask before they were interrupted. The recording plays out and he stands on the train platform, completely still, ruminating.

Love. It really was not a word that Jeno used often but his feelings were so present in every message that Renjun recounts. It was all in the details he remembered, the patience he exuded. The understanding they started to share, that night at Jaemin’s apartment. Finally, Renjun brings his phone up to his mouth and starts a new voice message with a shaky hand.

“Jisung said he went with you to the gym yesterday and that you might’ve hurt your leg a little. I hope you’re taking care of yourself.” Playing back the message after it sends, Renjun scrunches his nose as he realizes his voice sounds a little hoarse, but he hopes Jeno appreciates the sentiment. The train comes and he steps on with a lighter heart.

They can’t ignore the past few months and everything they felt when they were apart. If they got back together, it’d be something new to both of them. They wouldn’t keep it a secret from everyone and it’d be a lot bigger of a commitment than they’d been calling it. Renjun’s mind is overflowing with the logistics of it but underneath it all, he just misses Jeno. 

A reply is waiting for Renjun when he walks out of the station towards his bus transfer, telling him not to worry and that Jeno is simply a little sore. The fondness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. Looking up towards the sky, Renjun allows himself a small, soft smile.

-

_ Renjun takes a sip of his soju and lists to the side to rest his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder. He addresses the whole table but keeps his gaze locked on Jaemin. “So, which of you darlings are going to pick up my bill today?” _

_ Jaemin raises a brow, unimpressed. “Is this why you brought over homemade mandu the other day? So I’d pay for you when we go out?” Renjun bats his eyes demurely. _

_ Chenle interjects with a mischievous grin, "Personally, I think Mark should pay for all of us." _

_ Mark reaches across the table to flick him on the forehead. "Personally, I think Chenle should call me hyung like he's supposed to." _

_ "Okay, will you be a nice hyung and buy me dinner then?" _

_ Amidst the ensuing chaos ("You walked right into that one, babe." "Donghyuck!"), Jeno pipes up from Jaemin's side. “I’ll pay for you.” Renjun shifts his eyes to him immediately, surprised. He’d welcomed him warmly when Jaemin had shown up with a stranger, introducing him as his best friend, newly back in the country. Everyone seemed to know him already, even Chenle (“He was my Econs tutor for a while when I first arrived in Korea”). _

_ Yet they didn’t talk much after that, Renjun getting wrapped up in a light debate with Jisung on Jaemin’s other side in between bites of food. _

_ He catches bits and pieces about Jeno throughout dinner, though. Jeno is at least bilingual, although perhaps rustily so. Chenle shoots a barb at him in Mandarin about how harsh a grader he was back then and Jeno replies back slowly that it was foul of him to speak so quickly when he’s hardly used Mandarin in years. _

_ Ah, trilingual then, because Jeno’s just come back to Korea after three years abroad in England. They deduce that he left just before Renjun transferred universities. He came back because he got homesick, he explains. Renjun knows the feeling. _

_ He's about to turn him down, say that he was just joking, but he doesn't get the chance. “Oh, Jeno hyung,” Chenle singsongs from three seats down, and Jeno shakes his head in amusement. _

_ “Yes, Chenle, I’ll pay for you too. Dinner’s on me tonight, guys.” _

_ He’s out of his seat in a flash, heading towards the checkout till with one hand in his pocket digging for his wallet. Renjun stares on, transfixed by the sudden turn of events. _

_ And that was really the beginning of it all. _

-

It’s a few days later that he makes up his mind. They’d been sporadically sending anecdotes back and forth since Renjun finally messaged back, and he’s at that café near Jeno’s workplace again, fresh out of a productive meeting. A newly-signed contract to display his photographs at the gallery sits in his bag.

He exits out of his group chat with Jaemin and Donghyuck, both of them having showered him with congratulations, and stares at his conversation with Jeno. It’s back near the top of his recent messages, just after the group chat and Jisung. Besides his parents, who he would call later, the person he most wanted to talk to about this achievement is Jeno. He can already picture the way Jeno’s face would light up, the curve of his grin. He wants to see it in person and, well, that seemed pretty telling of his feelings.

His thumb taps on the conversation and he’s starting a new message before he can think twice. 

“I want you to come back.” Send.

It’s way too simple of a sentence to convey everything Renjun wants to say, everything that he has been bottling up since that first day without Jeno.

_ I miss how you used to lean into me and disregard personal space because you were comfortable with me and I was comfortable with you. I miss the look on your face when you want to hold hands but don’t want to bother me. You never bother me by being close, Jeno. Just take my hand next time. _

_ I miss the inane things like fighting with you over the restaurant bill. I miss the unequivocal, grounding feeling of your hand on the back of my neck or your head on my shoulder. I want you to come back and I want you not to leave again. _

It's okay. He would have time to tell Jeno all of this in person, face to face, all his feelings laid out bare in Jeno’s hands. Jeno wouldn’t be able to replay his words like he could Jeno’s, but Renjun himself would be there to remind him whenever he needed. 

His phone chimes with a new notification. It’s Jeno, and he sounds a little out of breath. “Where are you right now?” Renjun sends him his location, just a few minutes’ walk from his workplace, and waits.

When Jeno walks through the door, something in the universe clicks into place.

-

Renjun blinks blearily at the shift of weight off the bed. “Where are you going? Come back and cuddle me.” He’s mumbling and can’t even tell if his words are decipherable, but it’s too early to care.

He hears Jeno snickering somewhere to his left. “You know, I’m pretty sure I once caught you at a party nagging Chenle about the benefits of waking up early.”

After taking a moment to stretch, joints popping satisfyingly, he flops back down. “I must’ve been drunk and in the mood to annoy him. Besides...it gets exhausting to follow your own advice all the time.” He shrugs into his pillow and stifles a yawn. “I think there are times where it’s okay to prioritize small moments of happiness over following all these imaginary rules.”

Neither of them mention the near-irony of Renjun’s words, considering the situation they’ve lost themselves in these past few months. It’s more than a small thrill to witness Jeno giving in to his words, shoulders slumping as he flops back down at the foot of the bed.

“No, come back up _here_ ,” he protests.

Jeno stubbornly shakes his head, the coy upturn of his lips lighting up his face. Renjun huffs exaggeratedly, for the drama, but tackles him in the next moment, blankets flying as he lands perpendicular on top of Jeno, torsos colliding. He feels Jeno’s chest rumble under him, chuckles spilling out of his mouth, and he sounds beautiful. His sweetheart.

“I’m not kissing you with morning breath,” Jeno tells him.

Renjun narrows his eyes and rolls off him. “Then what use are you to me,” he huffs. “Nevermind. Go, begone.”

Jeno only squeezes his calf in response and shuffles closer to land a kiss on his forehead before he’s up and walking away towards the bathroom. He tries to go back to sleep and only lasts another ten minutes before he gives up. The funniest part is that Jeno isn’t even a morning person, yet he’s always waking up before Renjun for no discernible reason and leaving him cold in bed.

He rubs his eyes and makes his way into the bathroom, grabbing the toothbrush he’d left here and Jeno’s toothpaste. Unlike his own studio apartment, Jeno’s bathroom has a glass door separating the shower from the rest of the room so Renjun brushes his teeth in peace to the sound of Jeno singing radio hits.

“Babe,” Jeno says, “Look.”

Renjun glances over after rinsing his mouth to see that Jeno had wiped away at the condensation to form a heart around his face. He presses his lips lightly against the glass and Renjun’s heart skips a beat. “You’re so gross,” he tells him.

Contrasting his words, he steps over to slide the door open. Jeno blinks down at him but he ignores the water spraying all over him to pull him in for a kiss. Water drips from Jeno’s hair onto Renjun’s face but his lips are soft and warm against his own and they both smile into it, ignoring the taste of shampoo. Jeno licks along the seam of his mouth, his tongue dipping inside briefly for good measure. He reflexively chases after Renjun’s mouth when he pulls back, but Renjun evades him with a fond laugh and slides the door shut again, ignoring Jeno's displeased noise.

He wrinkles his nose as he lifts his soaked shirt away from his torso. Jeno sticks his tongue out through his heart-shaped porthole as if to say, _deserve_. “You’re making fun now but I’m going to steal your favorite hoodie,” he threatens.

Jeno's eyes crinkle at that, giving silent permission. He likes seeing Renjun wear his clothes. Renjun can’t win. He heads back into the bedroom and strips off his shirt, going into Jeno’s closet to take his sweatshirt as promised. Checking his phone, he spends the next half hour responding to emails as Jeno comes out of the shower and dresses. 

“Do you wanna watch something on Netflix after I make breakfast?” Jeno places a knee on the bed and bends to hover over Renjun, all notion of personal space voided.

“Sure, but no work today?”

“I took off to help Jisung move. Besides, happiness in small moments, right?” And with that, he disappears into the kitchen. Renjun's eyes widen in shock at his words, his body melting at the soft delight that Jeno finds in the simple things like watching TV together in the mornings.

He puts his phone down after sending off his fifth email of the morning, rolling over in bed to listen to the white noise of the winter rain outside. He’s so comfy after pulling the blankets back over himself. It feels like he’s wrapped in clouds, and he can hear Jeno pattering around in the kitchen attempting to cook something for both of them to eat.

He drifts back into a light slumber just like that, basking in the serenity as if he’s exactly where he’s meant to be right now.

**Author's Note:**

> my beta reader, about the kitchen scene: ok jeno cullen go off
> 
> come talk to me!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/prive_bbh) \+ [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/bolobao)


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